About two o'clock on the following day long lines of Indian chiefs and
warriors might be seen approaching the great Oneida village. Soon
after, a great fire was lighted before the door of the principal
lodge, and, as on the preceding evening, the warriors were ranged in a
circle round, and the women and children in another beyond. The great
chief, dressed in all the glittering finery of the Indian peace
costume, with feathers and red and white head dress, and crimson
mantle, and embroidered shirt and overdress, and medals innumerable
hung around his neck, took the seat of honor with a grave dignity,
such as few civilized monarchs have, even after the greatest study,
been able to attain. He wore no warlike weapons, nothing but a single
knife appeared in his girdle, and in his hand he carried the richly
ornamented calumet, or pipe of piece.
Close behind her father sat Otaitsa, with her heart greatly troubled,
but less, perhaps, with fear than with expectation. The Black Eagle
had been kind and tender with her when they had been alone together.
He had held her to his heart with a display of fondness such as an
Indian rarely shows openly to his child. He had listened to the whole
tale of her love for Walter Prevost without a word of disapprobation
or reproach, and sometimes even a playful smile had come upon his
dark, stern face as her words recalled the memory of feelings
experienced in youth, like a well-remembered song heard again after a
long lapse of years. Instead of reprehending her attempt to deliver
Walter, he commended it highly. "It was thy part, my child; thou
shouldst have been a boy, Otaitsa; the warrior's spirit is in the
maiden's bosom."
But when she came to speak of her lover's fate, to plead, to sue, to
entreat, the stern, grave coldness of the Indian chief returned; and
though she could see that he was full of fixed resolves, she could in
no way discover what they were. The explanation of them she knew was
now to come, and it may be imagined with what eager and intense
interest she listened for every word.
There was, of course, some little confusion as the multitude took
their places, but it was soon hushed, and then a deep silence spread
around. The great pipe was lighted, and sent from hand to hand till it
had passed all around the circle, and then, and not till then, Black
Eagle rose and spoke.
"Have my words been heard?" he said. "Have my warriors examined
whether any of the dark and infernal order of the Honontkoh are
amongst us?"
He seated himself again as soon as he had made the inquiry, and after
a moment's pause two middle-aged warriors, who had been with him on
the preceding day, rose and took a step forward, while one of them
said: "We have heard thy words, and examined. The brother of the
Snake, Apukwa, the medicine man, and the Flying Squirrel are
Honontkoh. The stripe is upon them and upon none else."
"It is well," said the chief, rising again. "Bring forward that man
who was taken at our Castle door, last night."
Half a dozen young men sprang upon their feet and speedily brought
from the door of a neighboring lodge the half-breed runner Proctor,
whom we have seen with Brooks and Lord H---- at Albany. He had a
calumet in his hand, the sign of a peaceful mission, and he showed no
fear, for he knew that his life would be respected, although he had
learned by this time that the Oneidas had been greatly excited by some
acts referring to the very object of his mission. Standing in the
midst of them, as calm and collected as he had been in the fort at
Albany, he hardly gave a glance round the circle, but looked straight,
with a cold and inexpressive countenance, at the chief before whom he
was placed.
"What hast thou to say?" demanded Black Eagle.
The man remained silent, although there was an evident movement of his
lips as if to speak.
"Fear not," said Black Eagle, mistaking the ineffectual effort to
speak for a sign of apprehension, although it really proceeded from a
habitual unwillingness to hear the sound of his own voice, "thou shalt
go in safety, whatever be thy message. Art thou dumb, man? Is thy
tongue a stone?"
"I am not dumb--I am not afraid," said the man, with a great effort,
"Great chiefs in Albany send me to say, 'Give us the boy?'"
There he stopped, for it had cost him much to utter so many words.
"Were they war chiefs?" demanded Black Eagle, aloud.
The man nodded his head, and Black Eagle asked: "Did they threaten the
Oneidas--did they say they would unbury the hatchet?"
The runner shook his head, and the chief asked, "What did they say,
then, would befall us if we refused to comply?"
"Shame," replied Proctor, aloud; and Black Eagle suddenly drew his
mantle over his face.
A low murmur spread round like the hum of a hive of bees, and when it
had subsided the chief rose, and with an air of grave, sad dignity,
looked round upon his people. "Ye have heard, oh children of the
Stone," he said, in a rich, clear, deep-toned voice, "what the chiefs
of the palefaces say of the Oneida nation; and there are warriors here
who were with me yesterday when our brethren the Mohawks reproached me
with treachery and inhospitality toward our paleface brother, Prevost;
and the Black Eagle had nothing to answer. Ye know the history. Why
should I sing again the song of yesterday? A man of our nation was
slain by one of the Yengees, and the brethren of the dead man seized
upon the son of Prevost, who is also our son, without searching for
him who had spilt the blood. This was contrary to the custom of the
Five Nations; but they say the man was not to be found, he was already
beyond our territory, and we must take the first we can find to
appease the spirit of our brother. But Prevost is a good man, loved by
all the Five Nations, as a brother to the redman, a friend who trusted
us. So hard do the Mohawks and the Onondagas think this deed, that
they have dealt subtly with the Oneidas, and striven to rescue our
captive from our hands by the crooked ways of the serpent. The
paleface chiefs, too, have sent men into our land, and think darkly of
the Oneidas; but the Black Eagle saw what they did, and spread his
wings and drove them forth. He had no answer for the reproaches of the
Mohawks or for the Yengees. He will give them both their answer this
day by the messenger, and the children of the Stone will thereby know
his mind. Let them say if it be good."
Then turning to Proctor, he stretched out his hand toward the south,
saying: "When thou goest hence, two of my warriors shall go with thee
to the Castle of the Mohawk, and thou shalt say, 'Why hast thou dealt
subtly with the Oneidas? If thou hast aught against him, why didst
thou not send a messenger of peace to tell thy brother thy mind, or
why didst thou not appeal to the great council of the Five Nations, to
judge between thee and him? If thou wilt unbury the hatchet, and cut
down the tree of peace, and bring trouble into the Five Nations, that
the paleface may prevail, and our Long House be pulled down to the
ground, then paint thy face, and dance the war dance, and come upon
the battleway, but follow not the trail of the serpent, to steal
unperceived into thy brother's land.'"
A murmur of approbation followed this bold speech, but the next moment
the chief continued, still addressing Proctor, and saying: "When thou
hast thus spoken to the Mohawk, thou shalt go on to the paleface
chiefs at Albany, and to them thou shalt say: 'The children of the
Stone have heard your message. They are the children of the great
king. He is their father, and they love him. But the Oneidas have
their own laws, and are led by their own chiefs. They take the warpath
against your enemies as against their own, and ye are glad in the day
of battle when they fight the Frenchman by your side. It is sweet to
them that you have used no threats, and they would not have their
white brother think darkly of them. They love, too, the chief,
Prevost. They love his son as a brother; but one of their own children
has been slain by one of yours, and their law must be fulfilled. His
spirit must not be shut out from the happy hunting grounds. They will
mourn as a whole nation for Walter Prevost, but Walter Prevost must
die unless the wanderer is taken. Thus says the Black Eagle, the great
chief of the Oneida nation; he who has taken a hundred scalps of his
enemies, and fought in fifteen battles with your foes and his. Give us
up the murderer if ye would save the boy. He is in your land. You can
find him. Do justly by us in this matter, and walk not in the trail of
the fox to deceive us and to save from us our captive.'"
Then pausing for an instant, he somewhat lowered his voice, but spoke
the succeeding words very slowly and distinctly, in order that every
syllable might not only be impressed upon the mind of the man he
addressed, but be clearly heard and comprehended by all the people
around: "Thou shalt say, moreover, to our brethren, the paleface
chiefs at Albany, that the Black Eagle finds that Walter Prevost has
fallen into the hands of bad men, who cannot be trusted, dealers in
dark things, vultures whose heads are bare but whose hearts are
covered. The Black Eagle will take the boy from their hands, and will
treat him well and keep him in safety till the hour come. As ye have
said that the Oneidas are hasty, that they do rashly, that they have
not sought as they ought to seek, for six moons will Black Eagle keep
the lad in peace as his own son, to see if ye will give him up the
murderer of an Oneida. But as the chief would slay his own son if the
laws of his own people required it at his hands, so will he and the
chiefs of his nation slay Walter Prevost, if in six moons ye do not
give him up the murderer. He shall die the death of a warrior, with
his hands unbound; and as Black Eagle knows the spirit that is in him,
he is sure that he will die as a warrior should. This thou shalt say
to the English chiefs; let them look to it; the fate of the boy
depends upon their counsel. Give him a roll of wampum for his reward,
and let him go in peace."
His commands were immediately obeyed, and the half-breed runner
removed from the circle. Then, turning to the warriors, without
reseating himself, the chief demanded, "Have I said well?"
The usual words of approbation followed, repeated by almost every
voice present, and then Black Eagle resumed in a stern tone, saying:
"And now, my children, what shall be done to the Honontkoh? I have
already removed the captive from their hands, for they are a people
without faith. They live in darkness, and they wrap themselves in a
shadow. They take their paths in deceit, and we see blood and
dissension follow them. Already have they raised against us the wrath
of our brethren of the Five Nations. They have brought the yellow
cloud of shame upon the Oneida name. They have well nigh severed the
threads which hold the roll of our league together. They have laid the
hatchet to the root of the tree which we and our English father
planted. I say let them go forth from amongst us. The totem of the
Tortoise casts them forth. We will not leave our lodges near their
lodges. They shall not dwell within our palisade. Let them betake
themselves to the darkness of the forest and to the secret holes of
the rock, for darkness and secrecy are the dwelling places of their
hearts; or let them go, if they will, to the deceitful Hurons, to the
people beyond Horicon, and fight beside the deceitful Frenchman. With
us they shall not dwell; let them be seen no more amongst us. Is my
judgment good?"
A general cry of approbation followed, the council broke up, the
warriors commenced wandering about, those who came from a distance
seeking hospitality in the neighboring lodges, for the great lodge
itself could not afford room for all.
To her own little chamber Otaitsa retired at once, and barring
the door, went down upon her knees to offer up thanksgiving and
prayer--thanksgiving, for hope is ever a blessing--prayer, for there
was danger still before her eyes. Safe for the next six months she
knew Walter would be in the careful custody of her father, but she
still prayed, earnestly that her mother's God would find some way of
deliverance for the sake of Him who died to save mankind.